


Bellanaris

by AnotherBroodyElf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Dorian x OC, Eventual Smut, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherBroodyElf/pseuds/AnotherBroodyElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beriadan Lavellan was a rebellious elf and a well trained mage. When he's sent to the conclave for a mission from his Keeper, the events that transpire change him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic starts before the events of Inquisition. I own nothing besides my Character.

All the information given here is relative to the end of the game, not the beginning. Beriadan does not start the beginning of the story with these, he gets them as the fic moves along. A certain level of familiarity with the game is needed to read the fic, and the fic will not be spoiler free. 

BASIC:

Name: Beriadan Lavellan  
Meaning: Beriadan is the Elvish name for the English ’ Alexander’, meaning defender of men  
Eye color: Bright yellow at the edges of the iris, darkening to gold towards the pupil  
Nicknames: Inquisitor, Danny, Dandan, Yadan.  
Gender: Male  
Sexuality/Orientation: Homoromantic, Bisexual  
Height: 5′11  
Weight: 160 lbs  
Age: 26.  
Race: Elf  
Languages Known: Elvish, English, some Tevene  
Vallaslin: June, in a dark blue

Temperament: Distant, at first, but once he gets close to someone, he can be a giant puppy. He puts up this asshole facade for people that he’s unsure of, and as the Inquisitor, uses a bit too much force at times. He does rely on his advisors, and his trusted friends. 

Birthplace: Free Marches  
Ethnicity: Dalish  
Affiliation: Clan Lavellan, The Inquisition.  
Class: Mage  
Specialization: Necromancer.

 

ABILITIES:

Basic Abilities:

Active: Fade Step, Immolate, Wall Of Fire, Fire Mine, Barrier, Energy Barrage, Dispel, Revival.  
Passive: Peaceful Aura, Guardian Spirit, Rejuvenating Barrier, Strength of the Spirits, Stormbringer, Pyromancer,  
Special Abilities:

Active: Horror, Walking Bomb, Virulent, Concentrated Detonation, Haste  
Passive: Blinding Terror, Death Siphon, Power of the Dead,  
Preferred Weapon: Accuser’s Staff  
Other Weapons Used/Owned: Fade-Knocker, Fury of the Veil  
Armor: Ancient Elven Robes  
Other Armor Owned: Mercenary Coat, Fadewalker Apprentice Coat. 

BACKGROUND:

Birthplace: Somewhere in the Free Marches.  
Clan: Lavellan.  
Lineage/Background: His mother and father are largely unknown, however, his Keeper is someone that has always watched over him. As his Keeper’s first, he did his best to be responsible, however, he always had a streak of rebelliousness that refused to be calm. He often resorted to stealing, for reasons unknown, though many attributed it to the lack of attention he had gotten as a young child. As the Inquisitor, he makes rash decisions if not counseled properly, and can end up in sticky situations that make his advisors groan. He is particularly close to Solas, as well as Dorian. His advisors, while they don’t always agree with what he does, stand by him. 

OTHER:

As previously stated, he is close to Solas, and often consults the other elf for help on serious matters. Dorian states that he’s seen them enjoying each others company, Solas painting and Beriadan reading one of the large tomes Solas always seem to keep on hand. After Solas left, Beriadan was left with a guilt in his heart, thinking that he could’ve stopped Solas from leaving if he had tried harder in securing the orb.


	2. Divine Retribution

Dirty, bare feet pounded the ground, a tattered cloak pulled tighter across his small body. The elven boy gave a huff as he pounded through, stone streets, trying to get away from the guards. He had stolen something, again, setting a bad example as a mage of his clan. They strived for greatness after all. To impress, to be the best. Beriadan wanted none of it. His short pale hair flew back as he ran, the glitter from beneath his robes twinkling again as he ran.

He had almost gotten away, until another body slammed into his, and he gave a grunt, tumbling backwards. Looking up, he saw a boy about his age, holding his prize. The silver snake earring, would cost a fortune in some areas. The dark haired boy pulled the small elf up, and rather sneakily clasped the earring to the ear, letting it wrap around and mended it with newly found magic so that it fit his ear.

The elf gave a blush, before running again, not forgetting that the dark haired boy told the guards he had ran in the opposite direction.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ten Years Later

A loud laugh cut through the Dalish camp, the older elf busting through the brush as he ran. The bare feet still a constant, and a silver cuff shining from behind now shaggy white hair. He gave another holler of laughter, running from the guards once more. Blue vallaslin, the markings June, running through his skin. His Keeper stares on, watching as the young elf gets into trouble again.

“Da’len.”

The voice startled the elf, making him turn to look at his keeper sheepishly. The Elder of the clan waved off the guards. as silent confirmation that he would handle the situation. Beriadan gave a simple shrug, before heading off with his Keeper.

“You know you shouldn’t be causing this much trouble.”

“Ir abelas, hahren.”

“As you’ve said many a time before..” She didn’t let the younger speak again. “As you know, there is a meeting of the Chantry, and it could very well affect not just us, but elves of all kinds; you’re also my First, despite how childish you can be. I want you to go, to spy on the Chantry. I am trusting you with this, Beriadan.”

“You can count on me, I promise.”

“Do not prove me wrong. The journey will be long. Set a mount, and be prepared to leave immediately. Bring no weapons. You should be fine on your way there.”

“And the way back?”

“Don’t worry about that. Focus on getting there and getting the information I need.”

“Of course.”

The next morning, as the sky turned pink, the elf was ready to go. Donning a mercenary outfit, the green contrasting with the bright yellow of his eyes, clashing somewhat horrifically. He scowled at the shoes on his feet, decided that those were coming off as soon as possible. . Mounting the hart, he set off, by himself to the Chantry.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days Later

The dark was something that was insufferable and Beriadan heard the scurry of feet and the hiss of giant spiders before he actually saw them; he picked himself up as quick as he could, bolting for the top of the mountain. He was unsure of where he was, but the energy led him to believe that he was in the Fade. Though, he was not asleep, and that’s what worried him. He grabbed the hand of the golden rayed woman that reached out to him, eyes wide as he tumbled through an opening, and landed on the floor of what he assumed was the Chantry building he had been in. There wasn’t much else to see as guards picked him up, and he passed out.

Upon waking, a white hot pain shot through the elf’s arm, and he gave a grunt, gritting his teeth as two women came into the room, beginning to question him. He gave no solid answers, remaining mostly quiet in the event, despite even the scarier of the two picking his hand up. Cassandra - he learned her name as the other shouted at her to not hurt him - wanted to know what had happened at the Chantry.

“You think this was my fault?” He couldn’t bite back the remark, and Cassandra scowled, but said nothing. “What happened back there?”

“It is better that I show you.”

Leading Beriadan out after taking the wooden bindings on his arms, the first thing he noticed was that the sky was painted with wisps of green, reminding him of the mark on his hand. As if on cue, the thing seems to zap him again with whatever power it has. He gives another grunt, looking up at the sky as he falls to his knees, gripping said hand in his other as he tries not to cry out. Cassandra helps him up again, though the look on her face does not change.

“It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time..”

Beriadan could fill in the blanks. “I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

Cassandra all but shook her head, leading Beriadan down the ways a bit. The looks people gave him burned into his skin, his mind racing as Cassandra explains. They mourn the death of their Divine, and blame him for it. Unsurprising, really, as it seemed he was the only survivor of the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Cassandra let out a bellow to open the gates, that they were headed towards the forward camp, and they made it halfway there with little to no complications, until the bridge they had been walking on was destroyed by a stray shot from what must’ve been the Breach. Tucking and rolling, Beriadan used what skill he had to make sure he didn’t take too much damage.

Cassandra yelled to stay behind her, but as a demon spawned Beriadan reached for a staff that had been discarded by another mage. Taking out the other demon, and even helping the one with Cassandra, both were taken out easily. Just when he thought that he could breathe a sigh of the relief, the warrior yelled at him to disarm.

“I don’t need a weapon to protect myself.” He points out, getting another scowl out of the warrior.

“Very well. I should remember that you are here of your own choice.” She sheathed her sword, and began walking away. Beriadan bit back another retort.

When they finally got the rift, the elf noticed another of his kind, a dwarf, and a flurry of other soldiers. Brandishing his weapon again, he jumped into the middle of it, letting loose a fire spell, letting the heat course his body as he released it. He smirked. This was where he felt at home. The other mage eyed him curiously, before taking his hand and holding it to the rift, There was a small bit of pain that shot through Beriadan's hand as the bald apostate shut the rift with it. Quick introductions were made, though the only one that stood out to him was Solas.

“He means, “i kept you alive while you slept.” “ The dwarf, Varric, said, a small amusement in his voice.

“You seem to know a great deal about the mark.” Beriadan muttered, looking down at the mark itself.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate.” Cassandra filled in, and the elf nodded slightly.

“Technically, all mages are apostates, Cassandra.” He went on to explain that he was here to lend a hand where he could, though Beriadan began to tune him out. “Cassandra, while your prisoner is a mage, it is hard to imagine any mage having this sort of power.”

“Understood. We must get to the forward camp immediately.”

Beriadan gave a nod, following the others and trying not to break out into a grin as he noticed that they had jumped over some barrier. He smirked as he jumped, placing his hands on the wood and vaulting himself over the thing. Cassandra didn’t have any other words (that Beriadan heard) as he ran down the hill.

It made Solas smile slightly, and Varric laughed.

“I think your prisoner is getting away.”

“I think he is just excited to see that he can run.” Solas observed, watching as the younger elf stopped and waited for them to catch up. This was a pleasant surprise for Cassandra.

Beriadan gave a small noise as he waited for the others, apologizing softly in Elven for his excitement before heading off to the forward camp.

Again, barely a sigh of relief was given as Beriadan was confronted again by one of Chancellors. He sneered that he really shouldn’t be talking shit about someone that was right there, before nodding in agreement when Cassandra suggested that they should march with the soldiers.

After leaving, he notes another man has joined them. The fluff around his shoulders made him look ridiculous, almost like a lion.

“We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

As if I didn’t know that. “You’ll lose a lot more if we don’t get a move on.”

“Very true. The path should be clear.” The Templar laughed a bit at the snark the elf had in his voice.

And clear it was, before the hulking building of what was the Temple of Sacred Ashes was upon them. Beriadan felt a sense of heavy energy flood him, as he walked slowly, a small bit of terror coursing through him.

“I… Survived all this?” It was overwhelming, a swelling in his chest. The mark glowed as he got closer to the large rift, and his yellow eyes scanned the area, before finally landing on the large tear in the sky. “How do you plan to get me up there?”

The question went mostly unanswered, as they ran down. Beriadan tried to ignore the familiar voice ringing in his ears.

It stupefied the young elf to see a scene that he didn’t remember play out, eyes widening as Cassandra started yelling again that he was there, but the frustrated elf tried to escape the conversation.

“I don’t know what happened! I’m sorry. Just find a way to close the damned thing.

Solas’s eyes softened a bit. “We must open the rift in order to close it again.”

Beriadan fought the urge to groan.

The battle with the pride demon was exhausting in and of itself, and the young elf passed out before he was able to get to back on a damned horse to wherever he needed to be taken.

Cassandra fought the urge to groan as she helped the elf back to Haven and into a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translation:  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry.  
> Da'len - Younger.  
> Hahren - Elder, usually used to refer to the Keeper.


End file.
